Holly Magic
by 3iggy
Summary: A short Christmas story written in response to the Labyfic livejournal challenge 'Tis the Season.'


_I believe.  
><em>  
>I believe in fairytales and monsters who lurk under beds. I believe in wishing upon stars, and I certainly believe in wishes coming true, for good or ill. One should always be careful when making wishes. I learned that a long time ago.<p>

I live my life like any other person. Class, work, homework, sleep and repeat. But, I am always conscious of those things that go bump in the night. I mind the gaps and make note of creaking stairs when no one is around because, unlike any other person, _I believe in magic_.

The advent calendar on the kitchen counter informed me that it was Christmas eve, though it hardly felt like it. I was alone in our big empty house for my first solo holiday. Toby and my parents had left for Vermont while I finished up a Friday final. I told them to go. There was no sense in postponing a trip because of my unfortunate scheduling. So I ate a Christmas dinner consisting mostly of curry and nestled down in the living room to watch the Christmas specials. I didn't plan to spend the entire evening alone though.

I had a particular reason for minding creaks and bumps in the night. That reason was tall, lithe, and dangerously beautiful. He was one who granted wishes. _He was magic_. If Tim Burton's Joker stopped to ask me if I ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight, I could answer with a clear affirmation. I had danced with a devil and lived to tell about it. The devil never really left me. I did not see him, but at times I was sure that he lurked nearby, unseen, and unwilling to be known. He would not come to me, it was not his way.

So on this odd Christmas eve, I decided to invite him out of the shadows, not knowing why I felt the need to do so. Maybe, I was tired of wondering if he were really there. Possibly, I wanted to see him again. Perhaps, he was answering wishes for himself. I'll never know.

That night, after finishing dinner and cleaning up, I lit candles and placed them in all of the downstairs windows. Milk and cake were left near a place setting on the kitchen table, and just in case he missed those peace offerings, I made sure to leave the backdoor slightly ajar. Once these things were done I poured a cup of steaming tea and settled down in front of the fireplace.

The flickering candles and flames before me were the only light other than the twinkling of the Christmas tree. Dancing and crackling, the flames lulled me to sleep as I waited. I slept for what seemed like only minutes when the hall clock chimed midnight and I sat up.

Wearily, I stretched and allowed my eyes to flutter open. My breath caught in my lungs as a pair of shiny, dark boots filled my vision. The boots were attached to a long pair of legs which belonged to my wish granting devil. He sat in an armchair opposite my own, staring into the flames.

Golden light caressed his naturally cool features. He had always reminded me of winter with eyes of frost and a smile that could freeze living waters. One set of fingers rested lightly upon his lips while the other hung relaxed upon the arm of the chair. He sat in the casual slouch of a predator who was sure of himself. There was no uncertainty or lack of confidence in his posture.

While I studied my guest, I didn't catch the subtle shift of his gaze until his eyes finally arrested mine. We remained in a visual standoff for several excoriating moments before I forfeited the contest and looked away.

My eyes found my teacup sitting on the coffee table, I had fallen asleep with it in my hand, so I knew that he had moved it. The thought of his gloved hands reaching into mine for the cup made me shiver.

"I am not a roaming country spirit you know?" his voice was mocking.

"I know," I replied.

"There is no need to lure me inside with the ancient superstitions of peasants. All you had to do was call, my dear," he looked into the flames once more.

"I was only trying to be welcoming," I replied reaching for my cup. It was cold.

Unfolding myself from the chair, I ventured into the kitchen and turned on the electric kettle, "Would you like some tea?"

"Only if you put it in a proper cup. Nothing with dancing elves or anthropomorphized beagles," he snickered.

"I wouldn't dream of it," I replied starting to regret the whole idea. Making the tea calmed my nerves, but they began to unravel once I returned to the living room. He was too real, even for me, sitting there with his legs stretched out before him and a pensive frown on his fiercely handsome face.

"Here," I extended the cup to him, hoping to avoid his touch. Moving swiftly, he encircled my hand in his own as he took the mug in both hands. Pulling my arm closer to him, he took my wrist and placed a kiss on the sensitive skin, then he let me go and returned to his former position. My heart nearly beat out of my ribcage.

"Thank you," he examined the steaming liquid.

"You're very welcome," I tucked a leg beneath me in the chair, trying to appear normal as though I were not hosting a Goblin King.

We sat in silence for a long while, listening to the shrill conversation that the flame carried on with the wood in the fireplace. I was very satisfied to see that the great Goblin King made quick work of the tea even though I had put it in a "God Save the Queen" mug. It was somewhat comical actually.

His gaze eventually traveled to the Christmas tree shining merrily in the corner by the bay window. His lips curled into an interested smile and he moved gracefully to have a better look at it.

"I am fond of this particular tradition," he mentioned as he surveyed the various ornaments. "I used to watch your kind reverently bring in bits of evergreen around this time of the year. They placed them about their homes believing that they were magic because they could survive the cold when everything else perished. It was charming."

"Yes," I nodded into my cup. He was so lovely in that unguarded moment. Curiosity suited him.

"I know better than to think the tree is magic, although it seems magical. I have enough sense to invite real magic in for Christmas," I smiled.

He straightened up and tilted his head at me saying, "Yes, you did," with a smile that was never wholly pleasant, he was too impish for that.

"But why, dear Sarah, have you invited me in tonight?"

"I didn't want to be alone, and I know that you are never very far away," I stared out into the gathering snow storm, just beyond him in the window.

He continued to smile impishly not concerned by my confession. The twinkling lights of the tree were playing along his skin and dancing within his eyes.

Drawn, as a moth to a flame, I set down my cup and moved nearer to him. The last time that we had been alone together he had offered me everything, and I had refused him. Yet, he stood before me amused and open, without a hint of regret or ill will.

"Do you hate me?" I asked quietly looking up into his face.

"No," he whispered.

I reached out and trailed my hesitant fingers down the curve of his cheek and the strong line of his neck.

He simply watched until I began to draw back. Gently he encircled my wrist with his own long fingers and pulled me close to him. Then he returned the gesture pausing at the base of my throat.

Tilting his head so that he could speak into my ear, he whispered, "I want you."

My eyes closed and he kissed me softly at first, but then more eagerly-suggestively. I returned his passion, surprising myself. My hands wandered timidly across his chest and into his hair while he pulled me closer to him. When I was certain that I was about to burst into a thousand pieces, he pulled away slightly and seized my chin within his gloved hand. Desire made his face appear evermore dangerous.

"Fear me, _Sarah_, love me, do as I say," he traced my bottom lip with his thumb. His terms had not changed, and my heart sank. He saw the defiance in my eyes.

"I cannot do that, Jareth." A lump gathered within my throat and I felt tears gather around the rims of my eyes.

That was my offering to him, tears rolled down my upturned face, betraying my own heartache, which was more than he had received before.

"There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear: because fear is torment. He that fears is not made perfect in love," I whispered to him with a weak smile. He wanted me to worship him, not love him. _He did not know what love was.  
><em>  
>His face darkened and he let go of my chin to brush aside the tears I had shed. I closed my eyes at the softness of his touch, when I reopened them, he was gone.<p>

I sighed deeply and placed my trembling hands on my hips. I stood there for a while just watching the snow fall. Though he was gone, I could still feel him.

When I returned to the fireside and my armchair, I noticed something sitting upon the coffee table, where his "God Save the Queen" mug had once rested, but in its place was a sprig of holly.

I picked it up gingerly, avoiding the prickly leaves, and smiled. "Holly," I sat down and cradled the offering lovingly. Holly represents protection, victory, and is the ruler of the harsh winter landscape, surviving all things. He would keep trying. "Maybe the third time will be the charm," I laughed softly as I wrapped a heavy throw about me. The holly sprig never withered, it lasted the entire new year, my own small piece of magic.


End file.
